The Sacrifice of the Mother
by roane
Summary: Episode V: Luke and Leia, heirs to Emperor Palpatine, are on the run from the Empire and the Rebel Alliance after the events of The Sins of the Father. (Dark AU, ESB retelling, Luke/Leia, Luke/Leia/Han)
1. Chapter 1

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...

EPISODE V

THE SACRIFICE OF THE MOTHER

It is a dark time for the Rebellion. Although the Death Star has been destroyed, rumors that the Imperial heir Luke Palpatine and his twin sister, Leia, died in the attack have made the Rebellion the target not only of the Empire but of many who used to support their cause. Imperial troops have driven the Rebel forces from their base on Yavin, forcing them into hiding wherever they can find refuge.

Unaware of the chaos they have created in the galaxy, the the Palpatine twins are still very much alive and aboard the Millennium Falcon with smuggler Han Solo, on the run after a failed attempt by the twins to destroy Obi-Wan Kenobi's Jedi Academy.

The evil lord Darth Vader, also presumed dead in the Death Star attack, remains in the hands of Sola Soruna and her Rebel Alliance, held prisoner on their new base on the icy world of Hoth.

Meanwhile, the surviving Jedi from Yavin race across the galaxy to reach their new home only to find that the Empire has gotten there first...

* * *

The _Ghost_ had successfully evaded the Imperial flotilla that swarmed above Yavin 4 and made the jump to hyperspace only to come out over Tatooine to find a whole new set of problems.

"They can't have tracked us through hyperspace!" the captain, Hera Syndulla, said it before anyone could even make the suggestion. She punched the comm button, her lekku twitching irritably down her back. "Green Leader, any idea where this traffic jam came from?"

"Negative, Phoenix Leader. I'm as baffled as you are." Shara Bey didn't sound baffled, she sounded as annoyed as Hera was. "Green Squadron, let's clear a path for our friends."

A rust-bucket astromech over in the corner of the cockpit started croaking and squawking.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, the only occupant of the cockpit not currently engaged in the _Ghost's_ fight for survival, spoke up. "What did he say?"

Hera didn't answer him directly, but spoke to their escort instead. "Green Leader, Chopper's picking up chatter from Mos Eisley. The Empire has been here for three days, blockading the spaceport." Hera jerked the controls of the _Ghost_ , dodging an incoming TIE fighter before yelling into the internal comms. "Sabine, Ezra, a little more shooting would be nice!" She flashed a quick smile back to Obi-Wan. "Thanks for letting me borrow your Jedi, Master Kenobi."

"He was your Jedi first. Besides, it's good practice for him," Obi-Wan said drily. Half to himself, he murmured, "Now why would the Imperials blockade Tatooine…"

The astromech had the answer for that too.

"Guess there was a slave revolt in one of the outer settlements. Locals tried to support them," Hera translated.

"So they're trying to starve them back into submission. Wonderful."

"Just hang on, Master Kenobi. We've gotten the _Ghost_ through worse."

"Phoenix Leader," Shara's voice came over the comms, "we've got an opening for you if you hurry."

"Copy that, Green Leader, I see it." To the entire ship, she said, "Everyone, hang on."

The _Ghost_ gave a sickening lurch that left Obi-Wan curling his fingers into the armrests of his seat, then started a spiraling descent to Mos Eisley. _So much for a secret arrival_ , he thought, closing his eyes.

#

After Luke woke up Leia from a sound sleep for the second night running with his dreams, she'd unceremoniously kicked him out of her bunk and sent him back to sleep alone in his own. He was tempted to go find Han, both to spite her and because "alone" was the last thing he wanted to be. But it was late, and having a sleep-deprived pilot was a terrible idea, so he went back to the separate cabin he'd first been assigned when they'd boarded the _Falcon_ on Coruscant.

Sleep came quickly, but it didn't stay long.

When he opened his eyes, he was alone except for the dead Jedi sitting on the edge of his bunk, watching him.

"Go away," he groaned. If it wasn't this, it was the dreams, or maybe this _was_ a dream. He could barely tell the difference between the two anymore.

"I told you it wouldn't be easy." His name—assuming that this wasn't a hallucination on Luke's part—was Ferus, and ever since Luke had killed him on Yavin 4, he'd taken up residence on the _Falcon_ —or just in Luke's mind.

Luke rolled over in the bunk, turning his back on the ghost.

"It's not that easy either, Luke. You can't ignore the truth of who you are."

He didn't turn around. "I know who I am."

Ferus just laughed at him. "How could you? Your whole life has been a lie."

The likelihood that Luke was talking to himself troubled him, but he sat up and turned to face the apparition. "Then tell me what it is I don't know, or else leave me alone. Do you think this is going to help?"

"Ah, there's that Sith training. Always looking for the easy path." Ferus shook his head. "You already know the answers you need. You just need to listen."

 _Search your feelings_ , Kenobi had said. Jedi, Luke decided, needed to just learn to say what they meant.

"Just listen. You'll know what you need to do. It's calling to you." And with that Ferus started to fade from view, leaving Luke's sleep ruined for yet another night.

#

The Imperial Palace was the deadliest place in the galaxy to be in the days following the destruction of the Death Star. Sergeant Ania Keth was grateful for the anonymity her red cloak and helmet provided her as a member of the Royal Guard. Admirals and Moffs were called in to defend their actions, and more than one of them learned the hard way that the Imperial Navy had no retirement program for failed officers.

With the Death Star gone, the first days were spent scrambling, assembling casualty reports, status reports. Who was alive? Who was dead? Reports had come through just the day before the attack that the Imperial heir and his sister had been rescued (or was it apprehended—Ania had heard both versions) from a passing smuggler's freighter and may have been on board. The HoloNet had gotten its hands on that information and started broadcasting that the twins had been killed by the rebellion.

The Empire spasmed in a universal paroxysm of mourning. The HoloNet produced endless tributes to the fallen twins, pulling up old footage of them from childhood on, broadcasting their faces to the galaxy with a soundtrack of sad music. The public clamored for news on when the memorial services would be held, pressuring the Emperor to make a statement one way or another.

Of course, the twins weren't dead. Ania didn't know how the Emperor knew for certain, but he knew.

Ania and her fellow guards were sent out of private meetings again and again, but she recognized the two different sets of people coming to see the Emperor.

One group was made up of high-ranking officials with years of training in protocol and event planning, bringing stacks of datapads holding endless notes and plans. The other group, they weren't quite so respectable, beings of all species in carbon-scored armor, bristling with attitude as Ania relieved them of the weapons they carried like children.

Emperor Palpatine was planning a memorial service for his lost twins. And he was also hiring bounty hunters to hunt them down.

#

Sola sat in the tiny corner of the base designated as hers and stared at her datapad trying to resolve the Alliance's latest supply issues. Fuel was the biggest problem they had. And not just for transport. Since they'd had to abandon the base on Yavin for the much, much colder world of Hoth, the resources needed to just keep them all warm enough to stay alive had skyrocketed. If she couldn't find a new source willing to work with them, the fleet would be grounded within two weeks. A week or so after that, and they'd all freeze.

Ever since the HoloNet started broadcasting their endless memorials for "the one and a half million victims of the Death Star Massacre, including our beloved Luke and Leia," more and more of the Alliance's resources started disappearing. Former friendly suppliers stopped returning messages. One or two called in the Imperials, resulting in several close calls and a few tragic losses.

The very first thing Sola did was alert their spies to keep an eye out for the twins. Proof that they were still alive might be one of the few things that could save the Alliance now, at least while the galaxy was still in mourning.

 _The twins_. She kept thinking of them that way. _The_ twins. Not _her_ twins, although by now she'd largely accepted the truth of Obi-Wan's confession. In a way, nothing had changed. Her children were still lost forever regardless.

The irony that now she needed to find them in order to save her people was not lost on her.

A knock sounded at her door, although it was open. The Jedi sent in as Obi-Wan's replacement stood there, clearly attempting not to fidget as he waited. "Ma'am?"

"Come in, Kanan." At first Sola thought Obi-Wan has mocking her when she met his replacement. Kanan Jarrus wasn't like the other Jedi—in fact, he'd spent so much more time on the Alliance base on Yavin, Sola hadn't even been sure he _was_ a Jedi until he showed up at her door and declared himself the go-between for the Jedi and the Alliance.

Now she was forced to admit there'd been some wisdom in Obi-Wan's choice. With all that had happened, Sola had no interest in dealing with one of the less practical-minded, academic-type Jedi like Kenobi. It was working out for the best. With the school on Yavin in ruins, Obi-Wan was now stuck with rebuilding his own base of operations,. Having the main Alliance base on the same planet, hell in the same _system_ , as the Jedi Academy had been a strategic mistake. The Empire could have easily wiped them both out that day. Never again.

"Thought you'd want to know that Master Kenobi has sent out word about the twins to our people as well." Another thing Sola appreciated about Jarrus: he didn't stand on ceremony. "I expect we're going to start hearing rumors about sightings any day now."

"As long as those rumors don't obfuscate any actual leads."

"It's a possibility, but Master Kenobi felt it was worth the risk if it got the general public looking out for them."

 _I'm well aware of how Obi-Wan feels about risk where the twins are concerned_. Sola kept that to herself. No one in the Alliance was going to find out the truth from her.

"Thank you, Kanan." She was prepared to dismiss him, but a shift in his stance told her he had something else to say. "What is it?"

"I was thinking. About our supply problems."

Sola leaned forward. From everything she'd heard, Kanan and his crew had survived for years out on the fringes of everything using just their wits—he might have connections she did not. "Tell me."

"Well, it seems to me there's one group that has what we need, if we could get our hands on it." He scratched at the back of his head in a nervous tell and his meaning came to her.

"You think we should steal from the Empire."

"You gotta admit, they have more than they need." He gave her a hint of a grin at that.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean we have a way to get it. Unless you're bringing me a plan as well?"

"Not me, but we have someone who might be able to help." Kanan paused. "And I bet he'd talk to _you_."

Sola understood two things right then: Kanan Jarrus knew who she was, and he knew who Darth Vader had been. Was it common knowledge among the Jedi, then? "I'll consider that," she said. And she would, that much was true; things were almost bad enough that she'd think of going to that man—currently sitting in a newly outfitted detention cell—for help.

But not yet.

"Tell me how the academy's relocation is going," she said, already steeling herself for what she was going to have to do.

#

When the _Falcon_ landed on Alderaan, Chewie kicked the three humans out saying he was going to make repairs on his own. Han could have protested, but Chewie snarled at him and he decided sight-seeing was the better part of valor.

Han was the only one of the three of them that had been to Alderaan before. His plans for showing them around were cut short by the HoloNet news reports that were blaring in every corner of the city.

It was one thing for the twins to duck from public notice on an Outer Rim backwater like Yavin 4, it was another thing to do so on a Core World like Alderaan—especially when every available display was broadcasting their faces with the news of their deaths at the hands of the rebels. Han was just grateful his face wasn't up there too—the Empire had surely identified the _Falcon_ by now.

"Coming here was a bad idea." Leia drew her hood up farther around her face, ducking her head down.

"Well, we're stuck here until Chewie makes the repairs, sweetheart. We took more of a beating on Yavin than I realized."

"Don't call me that."

"Would you rather I called you 'Your Highness'?" Han murmured. "I could probably manage to say it loud enough for someone to hear, if you wanted—"

"Both of you stop." Luke's affection for both of them was wearing thin after days of bickering. Also, there were dark circles under his eyes that Han didn't care for. Something was still going on with him.

"Come on, let's at least find a decent place to stay," Han said.

It turned out that the three of them had very different opinions as to what constituted a decent place to stay. Even as flush as he was with the twins' credits, Han put his foot down and they settled for a suite that seemed impossibly luxurious to him, while barely meeting the Imperial standards.

After a brief tussle over who was first in line for the refresher with real hot water and sonics that were actual worthy of the name, Han flopped on a bed he'd swear was bigger than his quarters on the _Falcon_. To his surprise, Leia sat next to him. She'd been avoiding him since that last encounter between the three of them in the twins' bunk, where she'd made him (without much protest, admittedly) watch her and Luke together.

"Truce?" She smiled down at him and he sat up.

"Didn't think we were at war," he said, his tone easier than he felt.

"It's just been the two of us for a long time." Leia dropped her eyes to the rich brocade of the bedcover, trailing her fingers over the pattern. "Always, really. I can see that's changing."

"Listen, I don't—" He didn't what? He was already more attached to the kid than was probably good for his health—and given who they were and what they could do, that wasn't an overstatement. Han had absolutely no doubt that Leia could do away with anyone she perceived as competition for Luke's affections. He wouldn't be surprised if she _had_ , in the past.

What did it say about him that knowing that made _both_ the twins that much more desirable? _It's a damned miracle you've lived this long, Solo. You have the self-preservation instincts of a rock. No, rocks are smarter. They lie still and don't attract attention._

"It's all right." She touched his hand and her smile was sweet enough that he didn't trust it, but it drew him in anyway. "That's between you and Luke. I'm more concerned about what's between you and me."

Han looked down to where she touched him, then looked back up to her eyes. "What's between you and me?"

"Why don't we find out?" Her voice was low with unmistakable meaning, her eyes flickering to his lips.

"I thought you didn't like me." Oh, he was definitely going to kiss her, but he might have to make her work a little bit harder for it first.

"You know better than that, Captain." Leia leaned a little closer.

"You got a funny way of showing it."

"Don't make me chase you," she murmured. "Come here."

Just like that, keeping away from her seemed like a terrible idea. Kissing her was the only thing he wanted to do, suddenly a compulsion where only a moment ago it had been just an urge. Han closed the distance between them, cupping the back of Leia's head to bring her to him. There was nothing tentative about her kiss; after a moment's contact her mouth opened to him and heat flared between them until it was less a kiss and more an attempt to devour one another.

Han wasn't sure if she pulled him or he pushed her, but they wound up sprawled across the bed, his body settling against hers. Leia had one hand tight in his hair while her other wriggled beneath his shirt, her fingers skating over his ribs. His mind whirled with all the ways she was both similar to and different from her twin. Softer, of course, but just as relentless as she twined her legs with his, pulling his hips in tight against hers.

Leia pulled on his hair hard, yanking his mouth away from hers and tilting his head to the side. It hurt, especially when her teeth found his neck, but it hurt in a way that made him want to rub his growing erection against her, to show her what she was doing to him. Even if she already knew.

A low whistle sounded from the direction of the refresher and Han jumped, in the middle of untucking Leia's shirt. "I should have left the two of you alone sooner," Luke stood in the doorway, hair still damp, wearing just a pair of black trousers.

"You don't mind, do you?" Leia's voice was soft and edged with desire. "He looked so good sitting there."

"I bet he did."

"Hey, kid." Han had to swallow before he could find his voice.

"Don't let me interrupt." Luke flashed him a grin that would've made him weak in the knees if he were standing up, then folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

"No." Leia held out a hand to him. "No one's just watching this time."

While Han was completely on board with that idea, seeing Luke clean and fresh and half-dressed reminded him that he'd been living shipboard for far too long. He kissed Leia before pulling away. "Not yet, it's my turn for hot water. And I'm guessing there's not room for three in there."

"Not even two," Luke confirmed.

Han left them both behind, reluctantly.


	2. Chapter 2

Leia held out her hand, coaxing Luke over to the bed. He joined her, curling in the space Han left. She studied him, lightly trailing her awareness over the surface of his mind. "You're not sleeping enough."

A smile and a shrug. "It's been a while since I had to sleep alone."

"Yes, you were sleeping so well before that," she said dryly. For nineteen years, he'd brought all of his troubles to her, and now all of a sudden he wasn't. "What's going on with you?"

Luke closed his eyes and reached for her hands and she lay beside him, pressing her forehead to his. They'd done this for as long as she could remember, comforting each other as children after nightmares or scoldings. As they grew up, she needed the comfort less and less, but she liked the way he relied on her. They stopped reconnecting this way after the first time they'd slept together, the night of their seventeenth birthday. She'd given him a better way to connect with her, or at least, one that suited her better. After that, he needed her for more than just comfort. They were bound together in every possible way, and maybe, just maybe, Leia had taken that for granted. She'd stopped noticing, and missed when the gap between them formed. She'd fix that now.

"Luke. Tell me."

He took too long to answer. Luke was clever, he was charming, he could even be almost as conniving as Leia, but when it came to deception, the best he could manage with others was to spin a web of half-truths. And never with her. There was a weakness in him now that hadn't been there before Yavin. She could see it, half-blurred and barely recognizable. Leia knew her brother body and soul, and for there to be anything unfamiliar… that was unbearable.

"I know you're having nightmares," she said. "I can feel them, even when you're in the other room."

"Something's coming. I don't know what."

"I haven't felt anything at all," she said. "Except for you." That alone didn't mean he was lying. He was always the one who saw more than she did. Her own glimpses in the future, into people, were less reliable than his. "Neither one of us is used to being on a ship for so long." Leia twined her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. "You just need time to rest."

And she needed time to draw him back to her. Trying to push Han aside wouldn't work, but she could use him. Draw them both in.

Luke closed his eyes and let her pull at the threads of tension in his mind, let her take care of him. It was maddening, to be able to see the swirls of doubt and not know what they meant or where they were coming from. It was maddening that there was anything about him that she didn't immediately know.

#

Han hurried through the refresher, debating with himself if he was doing a smart thing.

He wasn't, of course. Leia's contrite, peacemaker act was just that. An act. He'd seen the look on her face each time she'd walked in on he and Luke talking on the _Falcon_. It wasn't like the kid was telling him Imperial secrets; most of the time he was just asking Han about places he'd been. For someone who was going to lead the Empire someday, Luke sure as hell hadn't seen much of it.

It wasn't even like she'd ever walked in on them so much as kissing, much less groping each other—Luke seemed far too willing to just let _that_ particular tension simmer until the three of them were together. He was holding back, and Han suspected it was out of deference to Leia's obvious jealousy.

Han had a much clearer picture of the two of them now, probably clearer than either of them would like. They might be royalty, they might be spoiled, they might be dangerous, but they were also impossibly sheltered from the real workings of the galaxy. It didn't take much imagination to see how, shut up together like that, they'd turned to (and occasionally _on_ ) each other. And that was before all of the weird mystical Force shit.

The time they'd spent with him was probably more freedom than they'd ever had in their lives.

He pulled on his pants and came out expecting to find two naked twins, but instead found them lying curled toward each other on the bed, hands linked, forehead to forehead. At first he thought they'd fallen asleep, and resigned himself to sleeping on a chair, but Leia rolled away when she heard him come in. She smiled at him as she passed him for her own chance to get clean.

Luke looked more relaxed than Han had seen him in days, turning to sprawl on his back. Maybe some time planetside would do him some good. Han flopped on his side and studied him.

"Stop thinking so loud," Luke complained mildly. "I'm fine."

"Who said I was worried about you? I'm worried your sister's planning to kill me when she's done with me like some sort of Urnsor'is queen."

"I'm still alive."

"So far."

He was rewarded by Luke opening his eyes and breaking into a grin. "So far," he agreed. Han leaned over to give him a quick kiss, but Luke had different ideas, slipping a hand behind Han's neck and keeping him there for a longer one.

"You know your sister's going to be back in a minute." He hovered a few inches over Luke's face,

"Yes, and I'm sure she'd be shocked to see you kissing me." His eyes slipped closed as he reached for Han again, and pulling away would take more willpower than Han had ever possessed.

So for the second time in less than hour, Han was sprawled on the bed with royalty, legs entwined and hands shoved beneath clothes.

#

It was a way for Luke to lose himself. As good as any, better than most. With Han's mouth burning against his and his hands gliding up Han's ribcage, the nightmares—or visions, whatever they were—faded back to a dim recess of Luke's mind. When Leia returned, he felt her presence more than saw her, a few moments before the bed dipped under her weight as she settled on it. He and Han broke the kiss long enough to look to her. Leia hadn't bothered re-dressing after washing and her hair was damp, braided down her back. She reached for Han first and he sat up to meet her halfway. Luke lay back and watched the two of them kiss, one hand resting on Han's hip, his other reaching for Leia's free hand.

The energy pouring off the two of them had nothing to do with the Force and everything to do with the barely-repressed tension he'd been watching build for nearly a week. Han caught Leia's head between his hands, keeping her mouth against his while she clung to his shoulder. Luke, who had been the focus of Han's mouth just moments ago, smiled as he watched Leia's defenses start to crumble. He felt as much as heard her quiet moan, and let go of her hand in favor of running his fingers up the outside of her leg.

Han lowered Leia to the bed next to Luke, ending the kiss at her mouth long enough to bite along her jawline, pushing her braid out of the way to reach her neck. Luke turned on his side and ran his hand up Han's bare back, pressing a kiss of his own to Leia's shoulder. She twined her fingers with his and together they dragged fingernails over Han's skin and he gasped, arching his back gratifyingly, before breaking away from Leia and turning his head to kiss Luke again, a quick starving brush of lips and tongue and teeth.

That turned Leia's attention to him as well, and with no warning, Luke found himself on his back with Leia's teeth in his neck and Han's mouth on his again. The energy still burned between the two of them, but they'd caught him in the loop as well. Leia's mind was a constant presence in his, thoughts and feelings and sensations flying back and forth so fast and thick Luke no longer had any clear awareness of whose hands were where or who was touching who. Was he kissing Han or was Leia? Or was she kissing him?

There was an undercurrent of fear in Leia's desire that sparked Luke's interest, something he had never seen in her before now. It drove his own need, wanting to push that fear and see where it went. He and Han pinned her down in silent agreement, as if they were the ones sharing a consciousness. Leia moaned endlessly as both men licked at her skin, her nipples, both of them dragging slow fingers up her thighs. Somewhere in there they shed the last of their clothing, kissing each other over Leia's body.

Han was the one who knelt between Leia's thighs while Luke kissed her, pinning her hands to the bed. Leia was already writhing, her moans filling Luke's mouth and his mind while Han devoured her. He'd never seen her so helpless in the face of her own need and his own excitement spiked, making him ache to be touched. He arched against her hip, seeking even that little bit of friction against his cock. Han must've caught the motion, because he reached for Luke, his fingers damp from Leia. Luke let go of one of Leia's hands to grab at Han's shoulder, unable to stifle his own cry.

Before Leia could come, she twined her fingers in Han's hair and pulled him away from her. He looked up at her, both of them did. Her eyes blazed and Luke's heart blazed with it. She was glorious and she was done giving them control. "I want you inside me," she told Han, "and I want my brother inside you."

Both men shivered. Luke gave him a questioning look, and Han returned a crooked grin, crawling up to kiss him. The taste of Leia on Han's lips triggered a crazy, possessive response in Luke and he wound up knocking Han backwards and pinning him, licking and biting and kissing until no trace of Leia remained. Which of them he was more possessive of at the moment, he didn't know and it didn't matter.

Han gave a breathless laugh. "All right, kid. I get it." His eyes were warm. "So are you gonna do what she tells you or not?"

Luke grinned down at him. "Do you want me to?"

"Hell yeah." Han probably meant for that to sound more gruff and less breathy with need, but Luke got the message anyway. He let Han return to Leia while he went through their bags for what he needed. He came back to the bed to crouch behind Han, feeling and seeing the moment Han thrust forward into Leia, Leia's suppressed cry sending a shiver down his spine. Han stopped moving when Luke started teasing him with his slick fingers and Leia muttered impatiently.

"This was your idea." Luke caught sight of her glaring at him over Han's shoulder and gave her his sweetest smile, one that would never fool her. "I'm just doing what you told me."

"Hurry," Leia growled.

Any other time, Luke would have moved slower, taking his sweet time getting Han ready, but he was too wound up already, and Han was too.

Finally when Han snarled that he wasn't a _virgin_ , just fuck him already, Luke gave in. He pushed slowly in, driving Han deeper into Leia until all three of them were gasping with it. Finding the right rhythm took several tries until finally Luke and Leia were passing Han back and forth between their bodies, and for his part, Han was deliriously happy to be there. The hot sweetness of Han's body was maddening, and combined with Leia's pleasure all but screaming in Luke's mind, threatened to make him come much too soon.

Han made sounds Luke didn't know he was capable of, whining with pleasure every time Luke thrust into him, every time Leia arched her hips up to him. He was shaking violently and when he came he didn't cry out so much as collapse, whimpering. The whimpering got louder and Luke realized that Leia wasn't letting him go, determined to keep him inside her until she came too. It wasn't a trick Luke had seen her use often, and the one time she'd used it on him he'd thought he might actually die from overstimulation. He came before she did, sinking his teeth into Han's back to quiet his cry.

By the time Leia was through, both men were wrung out, collapsed to either side of her. Leia turned to Luke and nuzzled at him, the peace radiating from her. That startled him—when had he last seen her like this? Had he ever? She kissed him and a fierce, desperate need gripped him, not sexual, but more, like a sudden fear that she would drift out of his reach if he didn't hold on tight.

#

The detention cell wasn't designed to keep a Force user held captive. Oh, the Alliance had taken some precautions, and Vader was mostly certain he couldn't break out solely with brute force, but within three hours of being locked away, he already knew exactly how he could escape.

The question was, why didn't he? No one had come to question him in the first days of his captivity, nor did that surprise him. What little he saw of the base on his way in confirmed that it was half-finished and makeshift. The Alliance had more important survival-oriented tasks to complete first. Gaining intelligence was an afterthought.

Not that they would learn anything from him. The rebels were treating him well, better than most of them thought he deserved, judging from the hatred he felt aimed at him. Their medical staff, small though it was, quickly figured out how to meet the unique needs Vader's life support system required.

He had allowed Padmé to take him captive out of curiosity, he supposed.

 _Curiosity, of course_. Even now, after all these years, the voice in Vader's head that mocked his foibles still belonged to Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Now that he was here, Vader might learn something valuable about the Alliance to take back to the Emperor. It needed to be something vital, because his Master was going to be very unhappy with him. He had warned Vader that he wasn't ready to confront the woman who had been Padmé Amidala, and once again, Vader's Master had proven wise. Nothing could have prepared him for the shock he'd felt down to his bones at seeing her again.

Hearing rumors that she was alive, after years thinking she was dead—that he'd killed her—was one thing. Seeing her, changed and yet unchanged, triggered a gut-churning mixture of joy, self-loathing, anger, fear, and yes—if he were honest here in the confines of his own mind—love. He had watched as her beautiful face hardened into a mask of hatred for him and for Obi-Wan Kenobi as she learned the truth.

Sitting and waiting in this cell, he wondered which of them had suffered more for the sake of their children: Padmé, thinking they were dead all these years, or him, watching them become the Emperor's creatures. Self-pity was another luxury he'd learned to go without, but he allowed some now.

"We are on the same side right now," Obi-Wan had said. Padmé remained dubious, but Vader saw the wisdom in it. As they were now, neither of his children were prepared to rule. For the good of the galaxy, they needed better training, discipline, and a stronger sense of duty. None of that would come from his Master, who wanted only madness.

His thoughts were interrupted by his cell door opening. Half a dozen guards came in, all heavily armed and armored and he fought the urge to laugh. They bound and shackled him, but even so he could have killed them all with hardly a thought. But—his curiosity won out, and the suspicion that they were taking him to Padmé.

The base was chaotic and sloppy. There was nothing resembling proper military order anywhere he looked. How had such a disorganized, ill-supplied group managed to spread so much chaos? Even as he thought it, Vader knew the answer, because he knew the mind at work behind what he saw.

She was waiting for him in a large empty room that contained only two chairs. She stood behind one, the other was heavily bolted to the floor. The guards attached him to it and prepared to stand sentinel at the doorway, but Padmé ordered them out. Vader watched her, struck again by the things that had changed and the things that had not. Gone were the elaborate gowns and hairstyles. Instead she wore what looked suspiciously like a uniform, dun-colored pants and shirt, both loaded with pockets. Her hair was braided simply down her back, only a few threads of silver starting to show. Vader realized with a start that she was nearing fifty Standard years, and didn't look it.

Her dark eyes that used to sparkle with laughter were now hard and serious. He'd seen similar changes in the men and women he'd used to command, the gradual effects of war. It cut something inside him to see that same change on Padmé's face.

Once the guards were gone, she leaned her hands against the back of her chair and looked at him. "I've spent the day convincing my generals that you're worth more to us alive than dead."

"I know you would never hurt me."

He didn't expect her to laugh at that, and he didn't expect her laugh to have turned so bitter. Her anger reached him like a high, piercing whine, jabbing through his usual defenses and filling his skull with the buzzing sharpness of it. "Padmé, I am sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I had to keep you—"

"Stop."

"You must understand, I wanted—"

"You wanted. _You_ wanted. It's been twenty years and you still don't hear yourself." Her knuckles were white as she gripped the back of the chair, as if she were considering flinging it across the room—or at him. "Did you ever stop to think about what _I_ wanted? I wanted to raise my child, my _children_ , in a peaceful, free galaxy. And if I couldn't do that, then I wanted for you to do that."

"Padmé, we have that now. The Emperor has restored order, and there has been both peace and freedom for twenty years. It is as we wanted it to be."

"Peace and freedom." Padmé came around the chair, advancing on him, counting off on her fingers. "Kashyyk. Kessel. Kerev Doi. Chandrila." She looked at him with withering contempt. "Ask the Wookiees how their freedom feels. Or the Twi'leks. Or any of the other millions of slaves the Empire uses everyday to keep going. What do you think your mother would say if she knew her son ran an Empire built on the blood and slavery of others?"

Vader's breath caught in his throat for the first time since he'd donned the mask. "I have fought that. You know that I have, that I would. My Master would not listen. When I am Emperor—"

" _If_ you are Emperor, you'll do exactly as your master has taught you." Padmé turned her back on him and he watched as she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

"I have… made mistakes." It was clear that Padmé thought he had, and perhaps he had gotten distracted from some of the more important things. "If you were still at my side—"

"That will never happen." Padmé didn't turn around. Instead she walked to the door, her boot heels clicking in the quiet of the vast space. The only louder sound was the sound of the door closing behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

The Emperor did not often make public appearances anymore, nor was he one to give speeches. There were many that had forgotten the fiery rhetoric of first Senator then Chancellor Palpatine. He made his reappearance on the day the Empire stopped all of its usual business to mourn its losses.

Coruscant was even more crowded than ever, and Ania had heard estimates that there were perhaps three or four million citizens gathered in the streets around the Imperial Palace awaiting the Emperor's eulogy for his lost children. Security was the tightest Ania had ever seen it. Every Royal Guard was on duty, plus thousands of stormtroopers. Shields were at maximum all around the Palace, and in addition, the Emperor would be wearing a personal shield of the strongest variety. Rumors flew that the rebels planned to strike Coruscant at any time. The stories ranged from multiple planned attacks to cripple Coruscant's transportation system and kill as many civilians as possible to a strike designed to assassinate the Emperor himself.

Ania knew that almost all of the rumors were baseless, as she'd heard the Emperor and his trusted inner circle conspire to plant them.

Now she stood on the platform high, high above the streets below, the sun beating down on her red helmet as she stood at attention. The Emperor came through the transparisteel doors with his flanking honor guard. HoloNet recorders on drones zoomed around trying to catch every possible angle as they broadcast to the galaxy. The crowd below was a dull roar.

The Emperor approached the dais and the amplifiers that would carry his voice throughout the city. His image was projected everywhere, although some screens carried images of the Death Star, while still others showed the twins. A few, on levels much farther down, cycled through photos of all one and a half million casualties of the attack. It would take eighteen standard rotations for all of the photos to appear, at which point they would begin again.

"Citizens of the galaxy, my friends, today we join together to remember all of the loyal guardians of peace and freedom who perished aboard our battle station." He paused, his eyes glinting from beneath his hood. Commentators would later report that the Emperor had tears in his eyes. "Yes, I have suffered a grave personal loss. My beloved children, my heirs, were lost among the other citizens that day. And yet, my loss is no graver than that of Edivon family of Bespin, who lost their daughter Jude, or the Tarkin family of Eriadu, or any of the millions of others.

"There are those who believe that the insurgents behind this massacre are fighting for a noble cause, and while I, too, would like to believe the good in everyone, their actions speak for themselves. This Empire will not rest until those responsible for the deaths of Luke, Leia, Jude, and all the rest have been caught and held accountable. We owe that to our loved ones."

His voice cracked. "They deserve justice, nothing less. I call on all good citizens to do their part. We must drive out these insurgents from their hiding places, turn away from those would give them aid and comfort. Know that the Empire is here and we are listening. We know your grief; we share it. Together we can shine a light into the darkness and give these murderers no safe place in the galaxy to hide.

"Together we can make our galaxy safe once more, and in so doing, create a lasting monument of peace for all those we have lost."

By the time he finished, the crowd below was screaming (screaming for blood, if Ania's ears could be trusted). By the time the broadcasts reached the Outer Rim, the rebellion's days would be numbered.

#

After landing on Mos Eisley, the Jedi had scattered in every direction, each planning how to make their own way to the Jundland Wastes when the coast was clear.

The _Ghost_ itself took off as soon as the passengers were on the ground. Obi-Wan watched it depart, silently wishing the captain and her crew well. He convinced a passing stranger to "loan" him a speeder bike and was out of the port before the Empire had a chance to come looking for the _Ghost_ and her passengers.

Tatooine was no less a hell than he remembered. Sweat was pouring from his skin long before he'd even reached the edges of Mos Eisley, and there were still many kilometers to go. It was only a few hours until the binary suns set, and Obi-Wan doubted the planet was any safer after nightfall than it had been twenty years before.

Deep in the Wastes, the Jedi had built a retreat. Initially, Obi-Wan had planned to stay there while he watched Anakin's son grow up, but when that plan fell apart, the Jedi expanded the facility into something more broadly useful. The younglings and padawans that Obi-Wan had sent away before the attack on Yavin had been here for weeks. He dreaded telling them about the losses the Jedi had suffered.

He dreaded telling them about Ferus. And he dreaded having to find a replacement. Not for the first time, Obi-Wan fought the urge to go drag Master Yoda from his seclusion on Dagobah. They needed him here, not off communing with the Force.

The Jedi retreat was built into a system of caves and ledges that towered above the surrounding desert, and Obi-Wan got there just after dark. He was one of the first to arrive, and the children gathered around him noisily.

"Master Kenobi, where are the others?"

"What's happening?"

"We heard the Empire is here."

"All right, everyone settle down." They did, and Obi-Wan looked down into the eyes of dozens of children, all of whom trusted him implicitly. Not for the first time, he felt a small surge of guilt. "The Empire does have a blockade on the planet, but we should be perfectly safe here. We had to travel separately for safety. The others should be here soon." They'd talk about their losses at another time.

And now that he was safely here, he had a message he needed to send. Once he was in his quarters, a hooded figure appeared on his display. "Master Kenobi, I'm relieved to hear from you. We heard about Yavin. I'm so sorry."

"Fulcrum. I need your help." He knew who was under that hood, of course, but this transmission was nothing close to secure.

"Anything, you know that."

"I need you to keep your eyes out for someone. Someone who may come looking for the Jedi. Possibly for me specifically. And your first instinct is going to be not to trust him."

"Who is it?" The figure leaned forward.

Obi-Wan chuckled. "You wouldn't believe me if I could tell you. Imagine the most unlikely person, and if he shows up in front of you, you'll know."

"You're going to tell me I should trust him." The humor in Fulcrum's voice came through despite the voice modulator.

"I'm going to ask you to listen to him. I trust your judgment."

"And if I think we can trust him?"

Obi-Wan considered his answer for perhaps longer than he needed to. He was about to make a big leap, but everything in him said it was the right choice. "I'll meet you on neutral ground. You pick the system."

"This sounds big."

"It… could be," Obi-Wan said cautiously.

"All right. I'll keep my eyes open. Meanwhile, let me know if you need anything there. Fulcrum out."

Obi-Wan broke the connection and sat back. Outside, he heard the younglings start shouting their welcome again and he stood to go see who else had arrived.

#

Leia crept from the enormous bed hours before daylight, wriggling out from beneath Luke's arm and Han's leg. Both men stirred, but neither woke. The room was chilly, and she searched around on the floor until she found a shirt (Han's, it turned out) and pulled it on. Then she stole one of the extra blankets from the bed and went into the main sitting room. She turned the HoloNet on at low sound and curled up in front of it, half paying attention.

Luke still wasn't telling her about his visions. "Something's coming," he'd said, but he knew more than that.

The sight of her own face on the display caught her attention, and she turned the sound up. Uncle's voice carried to her, _"This Empire will not rest until those responsible for the deaths of Luke, Leia, Jude, and all the rest have been caught and held accountable. We owe that to our loved ones."_

It was odd, to watch one's own funeral. And who the hell was Jude?

They should go back, she and Luke. While she doubted the intensity of the Emperor's grief, the Palace was sure to be an in uproar, and it was an uproar they could take advantage of.

And yet…

 _I'm free_. There were no more expectations on her. No more threats of an Outer Rim arranged marriage to fend off, no more jockeying for respect and position, no more trying to prove her worth to men who underestimated her at every turn. Whatever their flaws, Luke and Han saw her for what and who she was.

But that freedom came at a terrible cost. All her dreams of power, everything she'd been raised to crave, to chase—unless she went back to Coruscant, they were all gone for good.

If she and Luke stayed away, stayed dead, what would they do? Who would they be? They'd be no one at all. Anonymous. Fighting for scraps on the edge of the galaxy like Han and Chewbacca. Was that worth just _being seen_ by two men?

A week ago, the choice would have been easy. It wouldn't have been a choice at all—she'd already be on her way back to Coruscant, with or without her brother. No, that wasn't true either. A week ago, she would have had absolutely no doubt that if she went back, Luke would come with her. Today, she couldn't say for sure what he would do. He was drifting from her, and as much as she'd like to blame his infatuation with Han Solo for that, she couldn't. If anything, Han was the one keeping them connected right now.

The sound of footsteps came from behind her and she turned to see the Han standing there, his hair sticking up in every direction, scratching at his bare chest. "What are you doing up?" he asked.

Leia shrugged, pulling the stolen blanket tighter around her. "Not used to sleeping somewhere that isn't constantly rattling, I suppose."

Instead of taking insult, he grinned at her, and flopped beside her. "Hey, nothing on the _Falcon_ rattles that's not supposed to." He paused. "Usually." The HoloNet caught his eye and he leaned closer to it. "Is that you two?" He turned the sound up a little bit.

 _"...millions of mourners on Coruscant, echoing the Emperor's call for swift justice on the terrorists responsible for the attacks…"_

Han turned the sound back down and gave a low whistle. "I would not want to be the Rebellion right now." She shot him a look and he backpedaled. "I mean, not that I would ever even think of betraying the Empire, of course."

"The longer we stay away, the more likely it is that we'll be branded as traitors, if it comes out that we're alive."

Han plucked at the blanket around her, scooting over and inviting himself under it. "So this little excursion of yours really wasn't sanctioned by the Empire." She gave him another look. He was getting good at interpreting them. "I don't know," he backpedaled, "I thought it might have been a case of plausible deniability."

"Emperor Palpatine would hardly send his heirs for that."

"I don't know," Han repeated. "Since you two are—" he wiggled his fingers in a bad approximation of mystical energy. "Wait, are you wearing my shirt?"

"It was the first thing I found and I was cold." Leia pulled it tighter around her. It was warmer with him here but not necessarily more comfortable.

"I don't mind. It looks good on you." He grinned. "Of course, it looks better on _me_ …"

Leia gave an unprincess-like snort. "Arrogant."

"But true." He leaned in and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. "So why are you really up?"

"I told you."

"I know you told me, but you were lying." He wore a smug smile that she wanted to wipe away. "You're worried about something. Is it Luke?"

"I told you. We need to get back." She focused on the HoloNet display, which was now showing the latest in the search for the rebels.

"It's gonna be a couple of days before the _Falcon_ is ready to go." He hesitated, then pushed on. "If it's really that important, couldn't you just walk up to a stormtrooper and announce yourself? That'd get you home in one hell of a hurry, I bet."

"And then I'd have to explain where I've been."

"You could say you were taken captive by a dashing pirate who ravished you for days." Han waggled his eyebrows.

Leia rolled her eyes. "Which would make the Empire determined to find you—even more than they already are, I imagine."

"Oh. You're probably right. I was distracted by the notion of the days of ravishing." He leaned in and stole a less chaste kiss this time, and she let him.

"I thought you were after my brother," she murmured against his lips. In a moment she'd push him away, but when he put his arms around her there was something comfortably discomforting about it, like bath water that was just a few degrees too hot.

"Do I really have to choose?" Han kissed her again, his arms tightening around her waist. The urge to push him away was subsiding rapidly.

Maybe he didn't, but Leia did, and soon. Han and Luke might think they could do this indefinitely, but even if she and Luke didn't go back, sooner or later their luck was going to run out. Leia was still wondering when and where as she let Han push her onto her back, following her down.


	4. Chapter 4

Sola cursed herself for a fool. She'd let her temper get the better of her, something she seemed to be doing far too often lately, and had failed to talk to their prisoner about how to steal supplies. To listen to him sit there and talk about how peaceful and free the Emperor had made things—it had taken everything she had not to scream.

Even with the hindsight of twenty years she still struggled to understand the man she'd married and how he'd fallen so far. Democracy was messy, and Anakin had never dealt well with anything messy.

 _We are on the same side_. Obi-Wan was often wrong, but he understood people fairly well. In this case, Obi-Wan and Vader both seemed to want to try and "save" the twins—not something Sola thought was possible, and not something she could devote any of her limited time and resources to. But she agreed with them on one thing: based on what she'd seen and what she knew, neither of the twins should ever take Palpatine's place. It would prove disastrous. They were vain, shallow, and spoiled, their ears full of Palpatine's poison.

All right. She could agree with both men on that.

She wasn't surprised to learn that Vader—damn it to hell, the urge to think of him as Anakin had gotten stronger since Yavin—wanted to be Emperor. That had been his goal from the start.

Would that be terrible? More to the point, would it be worse than things were now?

 _You could control him_ , a small voice at the back of her mind whispered. _He still loves you and you see him for what he is now_.

Sola fought a shiver at the thought, but her strategist's mind saw how it could be done. Convince him that the Alliance would help him depose Palpatine, would back him. The Alliance would never, and she would never ask it of them, but he wouldn't know that. And in exchange, he would have to help them. Maybe even serve as their eyes and ears within the Emperor's court. And if by some chance he did become Emperor, she could talk him into reforms. Bring the Senate back. Maybe—with Palpatine gone—she could convince him to step down to the role of Chancellor.

And if not, the Alliance could still bring him down.

Sola considered her plan for three days, staying away from Vader's cell. She debated confiding in someone, but in the end, decided that plausible deniability was the best route to take. Besides, someone might try to talk her out of it, and right now that wouldn't be difficult.

On the fourth day, Sola braced herself to confront Vader once more. Twenty, even fifteen years ago, she would have dressed carefully for a conversation like this. She might have spent hours on her hair and on cosmetics, all to project a carefully-crafted image. She no longer had that luxury. Even if she still had a wardrobe beyond what could fit in a go bag, even if she had the time to spend in the preparation, for her to be seen going to the detention area dressed and made up would cause too many tongues to wag.

There was one thing she could do. She took extra care with her hair, letting it hang mostly free down her back in curls, twisting the rest of it into heavy coils to either side of her head. It was a style that was too young and impractical for her now, but it was one he might remember. While she rarely wore her hair down these days, it wasn't unheard of, and shouldn't cause any comment.

Still, as she approached the makeshift interrogation room, flanked by guards, she wished for a gown to hide behind.

Vader was chained in the same chair as before. Sola had no illusions that it would actually keep him there if he chose to break free, but it might slow him down a little.

She had never tried to negotiate with someone who was wearing full body armor and a mask before, not really. Even as well as she knew him, not being able to see Vader's expression would be a handicap. His body language was so different now; she'd be stabbing in the dark trying to read it. But she had no choice.

As before, both of them waited until the guards were dismissed before speaking.

"Padmé." It hurt more than she expected to hear echoes of Anakin's voice beneath the grating metallic sound. _Use that. Think of him as Anakin if you have to._

"Anakin," she said in response, in the same neutral tone.

Sola would've sworn she could see him smile grimly, his head inclined to concede the point. "Neither of us are who we once were."

"No, we're not. But sometimes it's hard to let go of the past." She sat in the seat across from him, folding her hands in her lap. The silence grew between them and she let it, waiting for the right moment of tension before she spoke. "I have thought about what you said. I think we agree on one vital point: Emperor Palpatine should not lead the galaxy, nor are his children ready to follow him."

" _Our_ children," Vader said.

Sola took a breath and swallowed her temper. "I cannot take credit for raising them."

"Still a politician after all these years."

"You knew that when you married me." She said it with a smile, but the words cost her, a toll of a roiling belly and prickling gooseflesh down her back, to acknowledge the connection they had. "You didn't seem to mind then."

"I was young then. And foolish."

The silence grew again. He wasn't going to make this easy on her; she should have known as much. "Tell me what you would do to make the Empire better." Sola forced herself to look directly at his mask, meeting—she hoped—his eyes.

"I would end the slave trade, first."

Sola gave him a smile. He'd answered so quickly—this _was_ something he'd actually thought about. "What about the Senate?"

"P—Sola, the Senate was corrupt and ineffectual."

"But you could remake it. Do away with the corruption." She leaned forward. "If you say you can fix everything, shouldn't that be part of it?"

"If you will join me, yes."

That was, by her count, the third time he'd asked that of her. Sola had a better measure of him now. Despite everything, that lost and lonely little boy from Tatooine was still in there somewhere, still desperate not to be alone. If not for the loss of Chandrila and the thousands of worlds still at risk, she'd almost feel sorry for him.

The little boy had grown to a twisted, bitter, evil man, but one she knew. She could see a path in front of her, how easy it would be to say yes, to think she could undo his evil while standing at his side, to think that the title of Empress would suit her as well as Queen had.

And she saw how she might fall just as easily, corrupted despite the best of her intentions, driven to remake the galaxy into her own image rather than the image of democracy.

"I am willing to help you. But I can't leave them." Sola gestured around at the base. "These are my people now."

"How do you expect to help me if you are standing against everything I am trying to build?"

"Not against you, not against any reforms. Only against the Emperor and the evils that he's enacted." She forced herself to keep looking at his mask, hoping he wasn't looking into her mind. "You said it yourself. I'm a politician. If you listen to me, I can help you win all the support you'd need."

"And you would do this, why? Because you care?" Funny that a metallic voice could carry such a sardonic twist to it.

Only then did she drop her eyes and sit back. "Is that so hard to believe, Ani?" From the corner of her eye, she saw his shoulders twitch, as if in a flinch. "I hate what you've done, I hate what the twins have done, but I can't find it in me to hate you."

Now she did feel something in her mind, a sickening, helpless feeling. The only defense she had was to keep her thoughts on their past. She thought of her babies in her arms, which he never would have seen. She thought of warm days, a balcony on Coruscant, a terrace on Naboo. She thought of things she'd kept locked away for twenty years, and the pressure in her mind subsided.

He was quiet for several minutes, except for the steady pattern of his breathing. That sound was going to follow her into her next nightmares. Finally he said, "What do you want in exchange for your help?"

"Safety for me and my people." She looked back at him. If only she could see his face! "We need information and supplies. In return, we will do everything we can to make the Emperor look like a weak leader."

"You want me to spy for you." His voice was as toneless as before. Here was the sticking point. He'd refused to spy on Palpatine once, would he again?

"I can't help you if I don't know what's happening. We have to coordinate our efforts." She took a risk, perhaps showing more of her hand than she should. "The Emperor believes the twins died on the Death Star. The pressure on us right now is unimaginable. We will not survive— _I_ may not survive—to help you unless you help us."

And there was the test. Would he be willing to risk her life a second time? The temptation was strong to keep talking, but Sola kept quiet, and let him—hopefully—do the rest of the convincing himself.

"When I am Emperor, I will expect your full loyalty and the dissolution of the Rebel Alliance," he finally said.

"When you are Emperor and the reforms are in place, you will have it." Sola waited to see if he would hear the lie shading her words.

If he did, he didn't show it. "I will help you get what you need."

It was as good an answer as she'd expected. If he failed to keep his end of it, they were no worse off than they were now, really. She stood up, and as she passed him, she laid a hand on his shoulder. Could he feel it at all, though the layers of armor and life support systems? Irrelevant, the gesture was all that mattered. "Thank you, Ani."

"Padmé, I will find our children. We can make things better, all of us."

She didn't answer that, but instead said, "I know you could have escaped any time. You should probably try soon."

The shakes didn't set in until she was in the hallway out of sight of the guards. She'd opened herself too far, and twenty years of loss came pouring out. By the time she reached her quarters, her mind was filled with the images of the family that might have been, the four of them together, and it was more than she could bear.

#

Luke dreamed of sand. He'd made a terrible mistake. He ran across the salt wastes, sand shifting and burning beneath his feet, but it was nothing compared to the scent of burning that filled his nose. The remains of a homestead smoldered in front of him. It was his fault.

Dread sat in the pit of his belly, curling like a venomous snake. A sense of loss he didn't understand threatened to engulf him.

The sand before him tilted and he fell to his knees, the ozone of burning electronics surrounding him. Then it was night and the heat around him changed. Instead of the dry heat of the desert, a blazing violent red heat ate the sweat from his skin before it could cool him, and sulfur-stink made it nearly impossible to breathe.

Instead of sand beneath his knees there was only black rock, and just a few meters away from him an orange-red-black river flowed by. Before Luke could make sense of the hell-scape he'd landed in, he heard a man screaming. Everything was in that scream: pain, rage, betrayal, despair. It wasn't Luke's voice, but he _felt_ that scream deep in his core.

With a crushing blow to his chest, the scene changed again, and Luke stared up at a sterile white ceiling. Agonizing pain filled his world, leaving no room for anything, not even a scream. He could only watch, trapped in a body that would never stop burning, desperate for air that wouldn't move into his damaged lungs. Something black came toward his face, and he couldn't raise his hands to stop it.

Luke woke when his hands and knees hit the metal deck of the _Falcon_. He'd rolled out of his bunk. Still somewhere in his head he heard an echo of words, _"...your first steps…"_

They were a day out of Alderaan, off to Ord Mantell so Han try to contact the Black Sun and pick up a job. Leia was pushing hard to go back to Coruscant. It was just a matter of time before both he and Han gave in to her.

His heart thudded painfully in his chest and it took several moments of wakefulness to realize it wasn't damaged, that _he_ wasn't damaged. He took a deep breath, then another, focusing on the pain in his knees, the likely bruises he'd have in a few hours.

A knock sounded at the door to his cabin. "Luke, are you all right?" Leia. Had she finally felt some of the disturbance? He lurched to his feet, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand before keying open the door.

"I heard something hit the floor—"

"That was me." Door opened, Luke turned and went back to his bunk, perching on the edge and rubbing his knees. "I fell out of bed."

"You're soaked." Leia brushed his damp hair back from his forehead. "I can't see what you're dreaming about." She sat beside him and took his hand. "You've never kept me out before."

"I'm not now. I don't know why you're not seeing them." It was a half-truth. He wasn't keeping her out intentionally, but he was starting to understand why she didn't see anything.

"Then tell me." She rubbed a hand up and down his back like he was still a child and, despite everything, it helped.

"It's just images, really. Feelings." He related the vision in the sand and the one in the fire. He couldn't bring himself to tell her about the dead Jedi. Luke hadn't seen him since before Alderaan, but he still sometimes felt a presence near him. Ferus was still around, lurking.

He didn't tell her about the constant pull he felt these days, to something unknown and frightening. Even if he wanted to, he wasn't sure he could put it into words.

"We need to get back home," Leia finally said, pulling his head down to her shoulder. "We've been gone too long."

Luke closed his eyes. "Yes." It felt like a surrender. "We should go home."

#

Vader waited for hours after the lights in his cell dimmed for the night. The night cycles in the base were getting longer and longer; he'd heard his guards complaining about it, along with the drop in ambient temperature from the life support. The rebels were saving their fuel resources in every way they could.

Padmé—no, he corrected himself, Sola—would understand that he would be taking some of those resources with him when he left.

Better than possibly anyone, Vader understood the power of a name. Anakin Skywalker was no more, but the sound of that name coming from her had weakened him. He was no longer the naive boy he'd been. As soon as she'd had him brought before her a second time, he knew what she was doing. His memory of one particular idyllic day on Naboo was as clear as it had ever been, if perhaps dusty from long years on a shelf, and to see her hair—even streaked with silver—in those same coils and curls… that was when the first cracks in the walls he'd built against the past started to grow.

 _Thank you, Ani_ , she'd said, and for a split second he was a nine-year-old child again, staring up in wonder at the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, willing to do anything to make her smile.

It was a weakness, but one that made no difference in the end. With her help, he would destroy the Emperor and perhaps save his children.

But first, he needed to leave Hoth.

Leaving his cell was hardly worth calling an "escape," and he walked down the dim, deserted hallways to the hangar bay. The hangar was another matter. Expecting it to be empty at any time of night or day was foolish.

Vader was unarmed only until he reached the first flight engineer he saw. The man's blaster flew from his hand before he could even aim it and landed in Vader's gloved palm. He heard the sound of men shouting and, realizing he'd been spotted, ducked behind a storage crate. Then he did the unthinkable: he set the blaster to 'stun'. These were Sola's people, after all, and killing them needlessly would only damage her willingness to help him.

Men dropped left and right, alive but no longer a threat. He deflected what blaster fire came his way, but given the latest of the hour, the hangar had only a skeleton crew. The shield doors were closed for the night, but he simply ordered the deck officer to open them and she had no choice but to obey. By the time one of rebels had managed to sound the base alarm, Vader had already boarded a small freighter and started the engines. By the time any significant response had been mustered, he was leaving the ground. All too easy.

He would reach Coruscant in roughly eight hours, and then his work would truly begin.


	5. Chapter 5

Ania had another full rotation of off-duty time, and luxuriated in her bunk and in the warmth of the woman pressed against her back.

"Do you ever miss them?" came a sleepy voice from behind her. Ania turned over and slipped an arm around the golden-haired girl.

"Who?"

"The twins."

Ania snorted. "I never had the relationship with them that you did, Shala. And you never had to worry about how they were going to sneak out of the Palace next." Her smile faded a little. "The two Royal Guards who were on duty the day they were kidnapped died screaming. So no, I can't say that I miss them. That could have just as easily been me."

Shala kissed her on the shoulder. "I didn't think of that. _She_ scared me a little, but I miss him. A bit."

"For what it's worth," Ania said, pulling Shala close and cradling her head against her shoulder, "I think he cared about you—as much as he could care about anyone."

"He cared about having someone who'd race against him and still not beat him," Shala said wryly. "I'm not a _fool_ , Ania." She paused. "Do you think the Emperor will ever find the ones responsible?"

Ania pressed her lips into Shala's short hair. Whatever her doubts might be, she wouldn't voice them, not here, not anywhere, not even to Shala, the closest thing she had to a friend. "Of course he will."

She was lying, about everything. Oh, the Emperor would probably find someone to blame for the Death Star, but she knew now the twins had never been kidnapped—she'd heard it from one of the guards who'd survived their last round of Imperial Twin duty. They'd run away to do who knew what. Hell, for all Ania knew, they might have been the ones to destroy the Death Star.

And this had been her biggest lie of all, she missed the princess. The princess had barely acknowledged that Ania was alive, probably had no idea who was beneath the red helmet and cloak, but Ania still missed her. So whoever got blamed for the explosion of the Death Star, she'd be glad to see them die.

#

Their luck ran out on Ord Mantell.

Luke's sense of foreboding got only stronger as they traveled. He nearly told Han about it, asked him to change their course, but in the end he didn't. Whatever he sensed coming, it would find him no matter where he went. Maybe that was why he stopped fighting going back to Coruscant with Leia. Because it didn't matter.

Ferus had stopped visiting his dreams, and somehow that seemed even more ominous.

The spaceport was grimy and busy, crawling with every species from thousands of worlds, and none of them looked very wholesome. The good thing about a place like Ord Mantell: no one looked twice at cloaked figures going about their business. No one wanted anybody looking twice at _them_. It was a place where everyone avoided eye contact.

At least the wall-to-wall HoloNet coverage was over. Luke had watched the recording of the memorial and saw it for what it was: a move to obliterate any positive sentiment for the rebellion. Leia didn't say as much, but her political mind was even sharper than his, so if he saw it, she had to see it. Why the push to go back? Revealing their survival would only undermine the Emperor's efforts. He tried to puzzle through it as he slipped through the crowd. To make their stop as short as possible, the four of them had split up, each with their own errand to run.

What Luke didn't know about haggling (everything), he made up for with a judicious nudge with the Force, and came away with all the parts needed for the _Falcon_ at a ridiculously low price. Han would be impressed, and Luke was uncomfortably pleased with that knowledge. Impressing other people wasn't something he used to worry about. He took for granted that he _was_ impressive. With Han, he… wanted to be sure. It was unsettling but exciting.

 _It could always be like this. You could stay with the_ Falcon _._

Luke was tempted, but if Leia returned without him, he wouldn't stay "dead" in the public eye for long.

Another voice in his head, not his own, chuckled. _You know where you need to go._

He didn't, not really. All he knew was sand and heat. There were hundreds of desert planets. If he were inclined to go looking for the right one— _if_ —he could spend the rest of his life doing it.

As he approached the _Falcon_ , the skin on the back of Luke's neck started to crawl. The ship stood alone in the landing bay, just as he'd left her, and he was probably the first one back. Still. Something was wrong. He lingered outside the landing bay, just watching, stretching out with his senses.

Luke slipped away from the landing bay to raise Leia or Han on his commlink, to warn them.

Neither of them answered.

That was when he spotted the two humanoids tailing him. One wore Mandalorian armor, the other was a male Twi'lek and they were both definitely zeroed in on him.

 _Damn_. Luke ducked into the crowd hoping to lose them. Had they recognized him? Or had he just made himself an easy mark in some other way? Where were Han and Leia and Chewie?

A narrow alleyway appeared to the left and Luke ducked into it, his hand going to the blaster on his belt. He crouched behind a storage crate listening for footsteps.

"He came down this way, I saw him."

"You're sure it was him? There's a lot of money riding on this."

"There'd be a lot more if you hadn't spooked him. Now we'll never find the girl too."

"I didn't spook him. You were the one staring. I bet it wasn't even him."

"It's him. I saw the eyes."

"This'd be a hell of a lot easier if we didn't have take 'em alive."

"Hey, if you wanna settle for half a fee, you can kill whoever you want. Me, I want the full rate."

Bounty hunters. Hired by who?

They were right next to him now. Luke could see the Mandalorian's feet. He burst from hiding, firing a few quick shots at close range into the Mandalorian's chest. His armor did no good this close, and he went down. Firing wildly at the Twi'lek, Luke ran back out of the alley, fumbling for his commlink and trying to keep an eye in case the Twi'lek pursued him.

Nothing on the commlink.

Luke heard shots coming from the direction of the _Falcon's_ landing bay, and tried to reach for Leia's mind. The spaceport was noisy and distracting, and it took him too long to gather his focus.

 _-Luke, where are you? We're pinned down in the_ Falcon _._

 _-I can't get there. Bounty hunters._

 _-I know. Here too. They jammed our comms._

The spaceport troops were heading toward the _Falcon's_ landing bay, and even if they drove off the bounty hunters, that would still be bad news for the _Falcon_ and her passengers.

A burst of blaster fire exploded over his head, and Luke turned to see a reptilian humanoid preparing to fire a second time. Since when did bounty hunters work in packs? There was no way he could reach the _Falcon_ before the authorities did.

Luke reached a decision all at once. Several decisions.

 _-Tell Han to go. Get out of here._

 _-Luke, no—_

 _-I'm trapped by another bounty hunter._ Go. _I'll meet you on Coruscant_.

He sent the thought toward her with all the energy he could muster, felt her confusion, then she saw the intent he wanted her to see: they'd be safer apart for now, and he could steal a small ship easily here. It wasn't a lie.

She didn't say anything else to him, just an uneasy flicker of worry, then he heard the _Falcon's_ engines roaring through take-off.

For the first time in his life, Luke had no Leia, no guards, no resources except for what he had on him. He was entirely on his own.

#

The sun was rising over Coruscant as Vader flew the stolen Rebel freighter into the spaceport nearest the Palace. Even in a stolen ship, he could have chanced a landing at the Palace itself, but he wanted his arrival to be public. To be talked about. The story of his survival would reach the Palace before he would, and the rumors of how he might have escaped the destruction of the Death Star would only grow.

By the time he arrived at the Palace, there were a large number of courtiers, hangers-on, guards, and servants mingling in the vast main entrance. Vader felt hundreds of pairs of eyes on him as his footsteps sounded on the ancient tile floor.

No one stopped him as he made his way to his quarters. The Emperor would summon him soon enough, no need to potentially antagonize Palpatine further by showing up to the Throne Room uninvited.

As he expected, it wasn't long before one of the crimson-armored guards arrived to escort him. The Emperor's reception of him would depend a great deal on what had transpired in Vader's absence.

The Throne Room was empty and the Emperor was turned away, looking out at the Coruscant morning. Vader crossed the room and knelt, waiting to be acknowledged.

"Lord Vader. So you did survive after all." Palpatine's throne slowly rotated until he was looking down at Vader. There was no surprise in his voice, nor did Vader expect there to be. Palpatine would have sensed it if his apprentice had died.

"Yes, Master." Vader rose to his feet.

"You missed the memorial service for your children." The Emperor's voice was cold and hard. "I wonder, how is it that you survived the destruction of the Death Star, and they did not?"

The intended cruelty in Palpatine's words was impossible to miss. Vader only had a moment to consider his choices. Did he tell the Emperor that the twins were still alive? If he didn't, and the Emperor found out that he knew…

"Your children are alive. I followed them after their escape from the Death Star." Vader spoke as if he were delivering good news, and maybe he was.

"If you had them, where are they?" The Emperor made a show of looking around the throne room, as if he expected the twins to materialize.

There was no good way to spin this. "I saw them, Master. I was not able to capture them."

"Capture, you mean rescue, surely." Palpatine steepled his fingers at his chin. "I understand they've been taken by the rebels."

Vader took his time answering. "They were not captive when I saw them. I believe… they are pursuing some agenda of their own."

"Are you suggesting that my children ran away?"

It was odd, how after so long behind a mask, Vader still felt his face move in response to his emotions. Scars tugged on his face as an unwilling smile formed. "You have raised them to be strong and strong-willed, my Master. They have chosen to take their future into their own hands."

"You sound proud of them."

"They are foolish, for all their strength. Much like I was when you found me." Vader paused only briefly, then rushed on. "But I can retrieve them, if you desire. I know where to find them."

"I have sent bounty hunters out to find them." The Emperor let his words sink in, then gloated, "Of course I knew they survived, just as I knew that you had survived. I find it… _concerning_ , Lord Vader, that none of you rushed back to Coruscant." He smiled his unpleasant yellow smile and Vader kept his thoughts neutral and blank. "Of course, if what you say is true, perhaps the children have no intention of returning."

Bounty hunters. It was the worst possible outcome. The galaxy already thought the twins were dead; it would be the simplest thing for a bounty hunter to make their deaths a reality. It took all of Vader's not-insignificant will to remain where he was instead of rushing off to find Luke and Leia. "You have seen the reports from Yavin, Master?" After the destruction of the Death Star, Palpatine would have sent a full complement of troops to Yavin; they must have found the remains of the school.

"Ah yes. The 'Jedi' school you spoke of. Our intelligence agents found only the remains of what might have been a school."

"It was a school until your children found it." Vader paused, then added. "I was there. I saw them destroy it."

The Emperor laughed, a dry, withered cackle that sounded like bones crushing to dust under a boot. "And your old master, Kenobi?" So the Emperor did know Kenobi lived, even as he'd mocked Vader for thinking so.

"Escaped."

"Ah, now I understand your eagerness to go, my friend. Do you wish to capture him as well?"

Of course. Vengeance the Emperor understood. Vader's concern for his children was beyond him. "Yes, Master."

"You may go, but be prepared to come back when I summon you."

Vader bowed deeply, reining in the sense of victory trying to surge through him. "Yes, Master." Now he had only to track down the battered old freighter carrying his children, and he could bring them home. Once they were safe, he could begin the real work of bringing down the Emperor.

#

Luke managed to sell the parts he'd bought for the _Falcon_ at a loss, but it gave him a few more credits to work with than he'd had. Not that he planned to use any for transport.

An X-wing sat alone in one of the landing bays, fueled and ready for the owner's departure. For what Luke had in mind, he'd rather something sturdier and bigger—flying a long distance in an X-wing would be even more cramped than a TIE fighter—but it would get him out of the system.

The only question that remained was where to go from there. Not Coruscant. Not yet. Whatever unfinished business he had with Obi-Wan Kenobi and the Jedi, ignoring it was no longer an option. But where were they? They wouldn't have stayed on Yavin 4. The entire Yavin system would be crawling with the Imperial Navy.

He had two options. He could start looking into every desert system he could find, and hope to find the right one, or he could consider planets that had a known connection to the rebellion, and hope to find a contact there. How he'd convince any rebel sympathizer that he, of all people, had good intentions, he didn't know. He'd worry about that when he was off-planet.

Ord Mantell wouldn't be safe much longer. When Leia got to Coruscant and Luke wasn't there, she'd come looking for him, or send someone else.

So he kept his eyes open for the X-wing's pilot, and started strolling toward it like he belonged there. He was, at least, very good at acting like he owned a place—and the Force helped, anyone who glanced in his direction would find nothing interesting to see.

It occurred to him that the Alliance's pilots were fond of X-wings. He might be stealing a rebel ship in order to go find some rebels, while trying to escape an Empire that he—nominally, at least—was going to lead someday. Who knew the Force had a sense of irony?

Luke climbed up the ladder and swung into the cockpit, half-expecting to hear outraged shouts at any moment. None came. He cycled through the pre-landing checklist, already grimacing at the tight quarters. For the first time he was grateful not to have inherited Darth Vader's height—did the Rebellion not have any tall pilots?

All the controls were flipped around from what he was used to in a TIE fighter. Between that and a lack of a proper flight suit, he'd just have to hope he didn't do something catastrophic like accidentally pop the canopy—or end up having to bail out. His heart thudded in his chest in a combination of nerves and adrenaline. It had been too long since he'd been in any sort of fighter—longer still since he'd been out of atmo in one. He didn't realize he'd missed it until this very moment.

Finally the X-wing was ready to take off. He got clearance from the port, and although he had to carefully think through each every move, managed to make it into the air with no problems.

Luke broke free of Ord Mantell's gravity and gave the navicomputer the coordinates for Lothal, his first planned stop.


	6. Chapter 6

"He'll be all right." Han had tried to reassure Leia as the _Falcon_ left Ord Mantell, leaving Luke behind.

Leia, sitting in the navigator's seat, had just nodded, staring out the viewport as the atmosphere turned to the black of space.

Now they'd been in hyperspace for hours, but neither Han nor Leia had moved from the cockpit. Chewbacca left ages ago to chase down something that was making the _Falcon_ sound an alarm every few minutes.

"You okay?" Han finally asked. They'd been quiet for too long.

"I'm fine." And she was—mostly. There was something uneasy deep inside her. For the first time she suspected that Luke may have been lying to her, but she didn't know for sure. The uncertainty was maddening. To not know where he was right now, what he was doing, to feel that disconnect from him—it was one of the most profoundly unsettling things Leia had ever known.

"He'll probably beat us to Coruscant. I bet he'll be waiting for you." They were taking a more roundabout path to shake off any potential pursuit from Ord Mantell. "You'll see him soon." Han sounded upbeat enough, but Leia sensed that he was as troubled as she was.

Leia gave him a smile that was nothing but an empty mask. "You're worried that you won't get to say goodbye. I'm sure he'll find you." As soon as she said it though, she was sure of no such thing. The more she thought about it, the more certain she was that Luke had no intention of returning home.

"Me? Nah. A prince, a princess, and a guy like me? Wasn't gonna happen." Han gave her a grin that looked untroubled, then added. "Was fun while it lasted though."

This time when Leia smiled at him, it was a little more real. Smiling at him came easily, even now. "You're giving up already? Must not have been that much fun."

Han raised an eyebrow. "Are you making an offer, Princess?"

Was she? "Maybe." She let her lips curve into a familiar smile, the one that hinted at promises and drew people to her side. If she were smart, she would be looking ahead: what use was a connection to a small-time smuggler to her in the long term? But something about the way he smirked at her made her want to forget about the long term entirely. Did Luke see the same thing in him?

Luke. The truth was, part of her was recoiling from the very idea that Luke might have left her behind. It was unthinkable. Unacceptable.

And yet… she'd grown up in his shadow. Despite being stronger, despite being smarter, despite being more ruthless, a fluke of birth order and her gender put him first. If he stood aside, even if only for a little while, this was her chance to stand in the light. Everything that had been Luke's, she could make hers.

Her smile softened as she turned her attention back to Han. Everything included him.

"Maybe I am," she repeated, and left her chair behind to slide into his lap.

#

Sola reread the decoded transmission that was signed simply, "A." If there were implications about that choice of signature, she planned to ignore them.

There was an Imperial space station a few systems over from Hoth, the transmission said. Lightly guarded, but due to receive a major shipment of fuel, weapons, and rations in the next week for redistribution throughout the sector.

Sola had a few ideas of how those supplies might be better redistributed. The transmission included security clearances and codes. The only question remaining was: how much could she trust the information?

No, that wasn't true. The only question remaining, the only one that mattered was: did she have a choice?

Making a run on that space station would eat up the last of their fuel. The freighters they sent would literally have to refuel there before they could fly home. This was the Alliance's last shot at holding together. They needed a fool-proof plan.

So when Sola sat down to plan with her leadership team, she made sure Shara Bey, Hera Syndulla, and Kanan Jarrus were present. The base on Hoth didn't provide much in the way of conference rooms or briefing areas, so they were all crowded into Sola's quarters with a tiny holoprojector to present her information. She showed them the space station, the entry points, the likely size of the squadron protecting it. Everything she'd received from Vader, although of course, not naming her source.

General Rieekan frowned. "Ma'am, are you sure we can trust this? I don't know of any intelligence assets we have who'd have access to that level of information."

"It's an asset I've cultivated on my own, General." She smiled distantly. "I'm afraid I can't give more information than that; it might put them at risk." She was taking a risk herself, but it was a calculated one. "I trust the source."

Hera and Kanan exchanged glances, but Hera was the one who spoke. "With this much information and access, we should be able to be in and out before they know what hit them."

"The codes are good for the next three days, so we're going to need to act fast. After that, they'll have changed them," Sola said.

"I don't think we can hold out that long anyway," Shara Bey spoke up. "Morale's dropping. Ever since Darth Vader escaped, and with rations getting tighter, people are starting to mutter."

Sola held her face in a neutral expression. "Then we have no time to lose."

The plan was fairly straightforward. Three of their largest freighters would head to the station under the pretense of picking up supplies for redistribution. If all went well, they'd be in and out with no one the wiser.

As Sola was leaving her quarters for the mess, Kanan caught up with her. "Do you think this is wise?"

"I think we don't have a choice," Sola responded. She kept walking.

"Sola—ma'am—wait!" Kanan didn't touch her, but she could tell he wanted to grab her by the arm. He leaned in and spoke quietly. "I know who your source is. What is he asking in exchange?"

"Nothing that I wouldn't already do." She walked away before he could press her any further.

#

Shara Bey was piloting one of the freighters on the mission. She hated it, wished like hell they'd brought at least a squadron from X-wings for cover. That sort of cover, though, would _blow_ their cover. And besides, X-wings were grounded until they brought back some much-needed fuel. The freighter handled like a pregnant bantha and Shara felt like she was overcompensating with every single maneuver she made.

Hera had one of the other freighters—not her usual ship. The _Ghost_ was too small for this job. They needed ships that held a lot of cargo.

At least the crews on all three freighters were seasoned fighters, if the need arose. Force help them if it did.

"All right, look sharp," came Hera's voice over the comms. "Once we come through the jump we'll be almost on top of the space station. Everybody got their landing codes?"

"All set here, Captain," Shara said.

"Ready, Captain." Wedge Antilles was piloting the third freighter. Shara had picked him herself out of the remnants of their pilots. He was a good pilot, but more than that, a steady one.

Shara had an unsettled feeling about this mission. The crew with her had picked up on it, and were muttering among themselves. She hadn't missed the exchanged glances between Hera and Kanan at the planning meeting. The Jedi was seriously unhappy about this plan, and wasn't telling anybody why—unless he'd told Hera. He'd insisted on joining the crew on Hera's freighter, which was even more unsettling. Kanan was expecting trouble. And if a Jedi was expecting trouble...

 _Just fly_ , Shara told herself. Fly and keep her eyes open, that was all she could do. She prepped the ship for hyperspace.

It turned out, landing on the space station was easy. The station was crowded, overfull of supplies, and was expecting a steady stream of freighters to come lighten the load. A handful of troops came off each freighter and started loading the supplies while the respective captains went over the Imperial manifests.

Shara heard one of the deck officers complaining. "I wish they'd send us some proper ships for once instead of this collection of civilian garbage." He caught her listening and she grinned widely and snapped him a deliberately sloppy salute just to watch him bristle. Maybe she shouldn't have—but it made her feel better.

The freighters were refueling and the supplies were almost loaded when there was a shout across the cargo bay.

The first blaster shot sounded: one of the deck officers fired a shot at Wedge. Wedge spun and went down as Hera darted over to see to him.

One of the Imperials started yelling about a rebel attack and all hell broke loose. Stormtroopers started showing up, and that was when Kanan shouted, "Everybody board, now!"

Which was utterly ineffectual, since most of the crews had already drawn their blasters and were firing back. Shara corralled them and started urging them onto the ships while she disconnected each of the freighters from the fueling stations. Kanan was right—this wasn't the time to stand and fight, this was the time to haul ass out of there.

Hera was hauling Wedge onto her own ship, but she looked up at Shara and nodded—he was alive then, but he wasn't going to be flying anything.

Meanwhile Kanan looked like he was taking on the entire squadron of stormtroopers on his own. And winning. His lightsaber flashed as he jumped from behind one set crates to another, leaping overhead to dodge blaster fire.

Shara's mind whirled as she kept herding troops onto the ships while they complained. What were their assets? They had two pilots and three ships. Maybe they could crowd all the troops into the two ships, but they'd still lose a third of their desperately-needed supplies.

Better a third than all of them. Shara ran for Wedge's ship, ducking shots along the way. Most of his crew were still returning fire. "Come on! Grab what you can carry and get to the other ships. We're down a pilot!"

Oh hell, the navicomputer. If they left the ship behind the Empire would be able to trace them right back to their base. There wasn't time for a full wipe. She looked around the ship's hold and found what she needed: blast detonators. Now if she could just rig a timer…

Demolitions weren't Shara's specialty. But if it worked, the Empire would lose more supplies and wouldn't get a free ship in the bargain. And if she were very, very lucky, maybe they'd do some damage to the space station in the process.

She managed to plant a ring of detonators around the interior of the ship, all fed into a single timer. So far so good. She hadn't blown herself up yet. Outside the battle was still going on, but she heard Kanan shouting her name.

For better or worse, she'd done all she could.

Shara ducked out of the ship and ran for her own. Kanan followed hard on her heels. Hera's ship was already powered up and ready to go.

"What the hell were you doing?" Kanan demanded.

"Costing them a ship, I hope."

Shara threw herself into the pilot's chair, already reaching for the controls. She could hear blaster fire bursting against the freighter's hull.

Hera was clear of the ship, and Shara had just lifted off when the third freighter blossomed into a huge fireball. The shockwave hit her freighter, slewing it sideways. Shara fought the controls, trying to keep the ship from slamming into the bulkhead. She could hear the cries of the crew as they were jostled and thrown around. _Come on come on come on_. She pulled hard on the stick, and could've sworn she heard a screeching groan as the freighter kissed the space station wall.

 _Shoulda timed that explosion better…_

Finally they broke free of the space station's cargo bay and soared into open space.

#

Lothal was depressing and Luke hadn't even been there a day. He'd used some of the credits he had to buy some extra clothing, rough local garb that wouldn't have been good enough for scrubbing floors on Coruscant. Between that, a decent hooded cloak, and the scruff slowly filling in on his unshaven cheeks, no one gave him a second glance.

Luke had no idea where to start. He was working entirely on instinct. Remembering how he and Leia found Han on Coruscant, he asked around and wound up in the seediest watering hole in Capital City. Compared to Coruscant's underworld, it was practically a family-friendly place, but Luke chose the quietest corner he could to survey the crowd.

Lingering over a cup of something the bartender said was wine, Luke suddenly sat up straight. _Father_. A flicker of something like Darth Vader's presence came from somewhere in the room, but that was impossible.

Impossible, and wrong. The presence, whoever it was, felt oddly similar to his father, but not the same.

 _There_. Just now leaving. A hooded figure slipped out of the cantina, and with them with the sensation tugging at Luke's brain. He left some credits on the table and followed.

The sun had set but the streets were still busy as the vendors tried to get rid of the last of their merchandise for the day. Luke almost missed the cloak of his quarry vanishing around a corner. He followed down a narrow alleyway, just keeping the figure in sight. They didn't seem to know he was there, but that didn't mean he could be careless. He unhooked his lightsaber from his belt, keeping it hidden beneath his cloak.

Careless or no, in the end he rounded one more corner, stopped by a white lightsaber blade blocking his path. He brought his own weapon up to counter, and found it trapped between the first blade and a second that joined it. Luke barely pulled it away and jumped back several paces.

"Why are you following me?" The voice that issued from his opponent's hood was modulated, metallic.

Luke debated how to answer. Now that he was close to them, he could still sense something like his father there, but another presence, one he'd known only fleetingly: Obi-Wan Kenobi. It was a risk, but he chose to take it: Luke pulled back his hood with his free hand, revealing his face. "My father was Anakin Skywalker, and I need to find Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Silence for a long moment, then the twin white blades vanished and the cloaked figure swore softly and fervently. "'Most unlikely person,'" they muttered. "Well that much was true." They looked up at Luke. "Are you going to put away your weapon now?"

He did, uncertain what came next. "Do you know where I can find him?"

The figure looked around. "Not here. Come with me."

Luke followed once again, and they wound up in a quiet residential street, then past it, to an empty, abandoned section of homes. Blaster marks scored the walls of the buildings, doors hung open and many of the windows were broken.

"The Empire did this." It might have been Luke's imagination, but the voice sounded younger now, more distinctly feminine. "Came in here looking for a couple they thought were traitors, but instead destroyed the whole neighborhood."

He didn't have an answer; he wasn't sure one was required. After the destruction of Chandrila, the ruin of a single neighborhood on a backwater planet seemed like nothing. He followed her into one of the abandoned houses, down below ground to a dimly lit room that resembled nothing so much as a bunker. Maybe that's what it had been, years before.

Now that they were safely out of sight, Luke's guide lowered her hood, and pulled away the voice modulator. He wasn't surprised to see that his companion was a woman, but he was shocked to see she wasn't human. The Togruta was older than he was, although perhaps not by much. Her eyes were the same bright blue that striped her montrals and lekku, a striking contrast to her orange and white skin.

"Why did you follow me?" She studied him and he fought the uncharacteristic urge to squirm beneath the scrutiny.

"I sensed something. I thought—" The idea was absurd now, almost too absurd to say out loud. "I thought I sensed my father. But it was you." Luke paused. "You're a Jedi."

"No," she said, something gentle in the sound of her voice, "I'm not."

Her words didn't make sense. As far as he knew, the Jedi didn't have the same prejudice against non-humans as the Empire. "But you know how to find Obi-Wan Kenobi. You knew my father."

Luke didn't miss the shadow that flickered across her face.

"I knew him," she finally said quietly.

"Will you take me to Kenobi?"

She studied him again, and this time he felt the brush across his mind. She might claim not to be a Jedi, but she knew the Force. Then she turned away and examined the shelves of the bunker. No one had been here for years to judge from the dust, and she trailed her fingers over locked boxes on one shelf. "Why do you want to find him?"

"You know who I am." He didn't ask her.

"I know who raised you." She turned back, eyes narrowed as she tilted her head, the pressure in his mind increasing slightly. "But I can't say I know who you are, not right now." She smiled cryptically. "And I don't think you can either."

Luke threw up his hands. "Do any of you ever say what you mean? Do they teach you to sound so mysterious?"

To his surprise, she grinned. "I used to hate it too. But now I do it anyway." She paused, then extended her hand. "I'm Ahsoka."

He took her hand. "Luke."

She laughed and settled onto a barrel. " _That_ much I know. I wouldn't have, though, from a distance. Which side are you hiding from?"

Her laugh was infectious, and he found himself smiling in spite of himself. "All of them," he admitted.

"All right, Luke."

It was odd to hear his name without a title or honorific from anyone but Leia. What was Leia doing right now? Had she gotten back to Coruscant?

Ahsoka said, "I keep asking why and you keep not answering."

"I don't know why. I just… have to find him." He wasn't ready to tell her yet about the dreams and visions.

"Mm. We'll see." She gestured around. "I don't know where you're staying, but it's safe here if you need somewhere."

"I hadn't figured that out yet," Luke admitted.

"I thought not. It's quiet here—not many neighbors." Ahsoka studied him for a long moment. "I don't know why, but I always had a feeling Anakin's child hadn't died. Never would have guessed there were two of you—the princess _is_ your real sister, isn't she?"

Luke nodded. "She's my sister." He left it at that. "How did you know my father?"

She stood up. "That's a story for another time. I'll come back tomorrow, and we'll figure out what's next."

It was a start, but the start of what, Luke didn't know.


End file.
